IPS 3545 



^ PLAYS EXCHANGED. 




kr'3 Edition 
or Plays 



3&&&ii&&&3a&&&&% 



UNCLE SI. 




COPVr?.GHT, 1889. BY WALTfcH H. BAKER & CO- 



Uniformly Bound in Stiff Paper Covers, 
Price, 50 cents each. 



The publication of the plays of this popular author, made feasible by the new 
Copyright Act, under which his valuable stage rights can be fully protected, 
enables us to offer to amateur actors a series of modern pieces of the highest 
class, all of which have met with distinguished success in the leading English 
and American theatres, and most of which are singularly well adapted fur ama- 
teur performance. This publication was originally intended for the benefit of 
readers only, but the increasing demand for the plays for acting purposes lias 
far outrun their merely literary success. With the idea of placing this excel- 
lent series within the reach of the largest possible number of amateur clubs, we 
have obtained authority to offer them for acting purposes at an author's roy- 
alty of 

Ten Dollars for Each Performance. 

This rate does not apply toprofessional perfomnances, for which terms will be 
made known on application. 



to to 

I A. W. PINERO'S PLAYS, t 

to 

to 

to 

to 

to 
to 

to 

$ 

to 

to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
w 

f 
f 

t 

w 

* 

*7i "£• ^ ^St "» -4m "£• 45; -& ^ 4» <S' ^ ^ ^ '^ -^ -^ •S- -^ '2 S^SH^ 



T'WR' AMA701M^ I A Farcical Romance in Three Acts. Bv Arthur 
1 JTXC nJSirm<JL\0* J w PlNER0 . Seven male and five female char- 

■ acters. Costumes, modern; scenery, an exterior 

and an interior, not at all difficult. This admirable farce is too well known 
through its recent performance by the Lyceum Theatre Company. New Vork, to 
need description. It is especially recommended to young ladies' schools and 
colleges. ' (1895.) 

THE CABINET MINISTER. J £J^"VS:[„ A S, JZ 

— — " — — ' and nine female characters. 

Costumes, modern society : scenery, three interiors. A very amusing piece, in- 
genious in construction, and brilliant in dialogue. (1892.) 

DAFJDV DITTC I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. 
l-'-tVLN-L-' *• i-MV«lV# Seven male, four female characters. Costumes, mod- 

' ern ; scenery, two interiors. This very amusing piece 

was another success in the New York and Boston theatres, and has been ex- 
tensively played from manuscript by amateurs, for whom it is in every respect 
suited. It provides an unusual number of capital character parts, is very funny, 
and an excellent acting piece. Plays two hours and a half. (1893.) 

TT-rc* UHRRV MOP ^17 I A Comedy in Three Acts. By Arthur 
lriE. riKJDDX riKJSS^I^* W. PlNERO. Ten male, five female char- 
— ' acters. Scenery, two interiors and an ex- 
terior : costumes, modern. This piece is best known in this country through the 
admirable performance of Mr. John Hare, who produced it in all the principal 
cities. Its story presents a clever satire of false philanthropy, and is full of 
interest and humor. Well adapted for amateurs, by whom it has been success- 
fully acted. Plays two hours and a half. (1892.) 

T ATYV ROT TIMTTPT TT I A Pla y n Four Acts - B > r Arthur w. 

l^/VL^I DUUHUruu Pinero. Eight male and seven female char- 

' acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, four 

interiors, not easy. A play of powerful sympathetic interest, i little sombre in 
key, but not unrelieved by humorous touches. (1892.) 



UNCLE SI 



A Comedy in Four Acts 



Originally produced at Stone's Opera House, Binghamton 

N. Y., Oct. 4, 1898, under the title of 

" Paradise Regained." 



By Frederick H. Wilson 



BOSTON 

WALTER H. BAKER & CO 

1900 



O COPIES RJECEi 
f CORgPStSfc 

Office of tfce 

61544 MAY 5 -1900 

_Kegl8Ur_of Copyptg* 



Register of copyrigltfr. V} / 

1* 



CHARACTERS 






As originally produced by the Frederick H. Wilson Company, 
under the management of Harry C. Curtis 



Josiah Hedges, ("Uncle Si,") 

Frank Rolleston, 

Ned Clearfield, 

Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher, 

Rev. John Rolleston, 

O'Flannigan, 

Weary Wiggles, 

Rachel Watterson, 

Nellie Parkman, 

Tranquillity Hedges, 

Ruth Hedges, afterward known as 

Lucille Askman, 



Frederick H. Wilson. 

Wilfred V. Lucas. 

Robert H. Harris. 

Stuart Anderson. 

Will Chatterton. 

R. A. Furness. 

Will R. Clarke. 

Annie C. Hertz. 

Jeanette Carew. 

Jeanette Howell. 

Minxie A. Barrie. 



Time, the present. Costumes modern. 
Time in representation, two hours and a half. 




Copyright, 1900, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 

NOTE. — Permission to produce this play by professional managers and 
actors must be secured from the author, Frederick H. Wilson, 116 West 
Castle street, Syracuse, N. Y. Amateurs may produce it without pay- 
ment of royalty. 



s£ cond cop^.<2 s /O^ZL/ 



PROPERTY PLOT 



ACT I. 

Two rustic benches. An apple and a half apple. Two 
sketch books. Clothes-line. Clothes to hang on line. 
Wheelbarrow. Tripod and kettle. Tinware. Small paper 
bag filled with flour. Snake and cow bell. Novel and lead 
pencil. Man's bicycle. Pipe and tobacco. Flour barrel with 
both ends out. Three letters. 

ACT II. 

Piece of harness. Fence and hen-coop. Rake and pitch- 
fork. Fork full of hay. Very large pancake. Saw-horse and 
saw. Stick of wood. Three steel bars. Wash basin and 
towel. Pan or pail of corn. Broom and tin pail. Letter for 
Frank. 

ACT III. 

Easel and picture. Palette. Brush and cane furniture. Sleigh 
bells and sofa pillow. Large parlor lamp, to be lighted. Snow. 
Nice pipe, not to be lighted. Calling cards. Fireplace. 

ACT IV. 

Fancy furniture. Decanter. Three wine glasses. Three 
bananas. 



6 UNCLE SI. 

Josiah {outside r. u. e.). Go along there, Mooly; what's 
the matter with ye ? 

Rachel {going up to r. u. e.). That sounds like Mr. 
Hedges' voice. He is the best sample of rural simplicity, 
goodness and honesty, I have ever seen. 

Nellie. He is the dearest old man living. 

Josiah {enters r. u. e. over bridge, down the return piece). 
Morning, folks, how be ye all. {All greet him ad. lib.) I was 
takin' one of the cows through the lane, and I thought I'd 
drop in on ye. 

Ned. We are always glad to see you, Mr. Hedges. 

Josiah. Jest so. Have an apple, miss? {To Rachel.) 
There's one for you, sonny. {To Ned.) And here is a big 
one for you, sis. {To Nellie.) They ain't quite ripe yet, 
and if any o' you folks have got store teeth, ye' 11 have to be 
pooty careful. 

Omnes. Oh, thank you, Mr. Hedges. 

Josiah. Don't mention it. Ye hain't seen my old woman 
up this way, have ye ? 

Rachel. No, Mr. Hedges. 

Josiah. I hired a new hand t'other day, and it takes Tran- 
quillity about all her time looking after him. She sent him up 
here just after dinner to open the meadow bars, so that the 
sheep could git up to the hill pasture. He ain't back yet. 
Say, have another apple. {To Rachel.) Paintin', ain't ye? 
My stars, you city folks have fun, don't ye ? 

Nellie. Did you ever go to the city, Mr. Hedges ? 

Josiah. I went once. {Crosses to Ned; Rachel goes up 
stage to r. u. e., and starts sketching.) Hezekiah Allen and 
me, we was in Bosting four days, a gallavantin' around ; took a 
ride in the street cars, went to the town hall to see a troupe 
cut up. We seen Bunker's Hill, visited the lock-up, sot down 
on a seat in the Common, went to the Salvation Army, bought 
four chances on a gold watch, and wound up by getting chuck 
full of apple jack. Hezekiah's fust wife was a relative of the 
Scraggs, — old Bill Scraggs, he fit in the war. His boy Sem 
went west to Californy ; some folks say he died there. Found 
out later he did die; he was buried in Mr. Potter's field. 
Hezekiah and me come home from Bosting, took off our dude 
clothes and went to hoein' pertaters. We ain't been to the city 
sence. 

Ned {coming down a). How would you like to engage my 
services as a farm hand ? 



UNCLE SI. 7 

Josiah. Git out ! The cows would eat you up for green 
grass. (All laugh.) 

Ned. Oh, I think I could learn to handle the hoe. 

Josiah. Handlin' the hoe ain't all there is to a farmer's 
life. You city folks housed up all day in your stores and 
offices don't know nothin' about readin' God's book of nature. 
In the growin' of grass and garden truck from day to day, we 
can study life in its onward march ; in the smell of the flowers 
we can see the handiwork of the Creator. No, no, sonny. I 
guess I could do the agreeable in a parlor, and measure off 
ribbon behind a counter, a mighty sight easier than you could 
work on a farm. 

Rachel. Mr. Clearfield, that ends your aspirations. 

Ned. I believe you. (Ned and Rachel retire up l. u. e.) 

Nellie. Do you ever take summer boarders, Mr. Hedges ? 

Josiah. Well, I hain't made a practice of it. Ye see, ma 
and Ruth, it takes about all their time to do the chores on the 
farm. What are ye doin', — readin' ? 

Nellie. Yes, I have the latest novel. 

Josiah. We — we got a book up there to the house; I'll 
lend it to you if you will take good care of it. Ruth read it 
most through. It's named "Robinson Crusoe." Ever read 
it? 

Nellie. Never did. (Laughing.) Let me read you a few 
lines from this book. It is called, " Alice, where art thou ? " 

Josiah. It ain't Grunes's gal, Alice, is it ? 

Nellie. Well, hardly. 

Josiah. I was going to say, she's over to Bill Morton's, 
helpin' Tom shear sheep. 

Nellie (reads). " Harold de Vere, after a moment's hesi- 
tation, essayed forth upon an errand that was destined to be 
productive of good fruit." 

Josiah. It's been a great season for fruit; have another 
apple ? 

Nellie. No, thank you. (Reads.) " Little did he know 
the good fortune in store for him. Giving a hasty glance at 
Owen Potter to see " 

Josiah. Owen Potter ! I allow he's the one that owns the 
field where they buried Lem Scraggs. 

Nellie. " To see if his actions were observed, he mounted 
his steed and galloped swiftly away across the Baldwin." 

Josiah. I crossed the Baldwin one time with a Gravenstein, 
and the darn thing turned out to be crab apples. 



8 UNCLE SI. 

Nellie. "Faster and faster he flew; he knew only too 
well the loving hearts that were waiting him. Visions of a 
beautiful face ' ' 

O'Flannigan {enters, r. u. e., on bridge). Supper is wait- 
ing for you, sor. [Exit, L., over bridge. 

Rachel. For the land's sake ! what's that? 
, Josiah. That's Flannigan. 

Rachel {looks r.). I think I see your wife coming down 
the lane. 

Josiah. I guess I'd better be trotting along ; she has a way 
of speakin' her mind that's — well, it's to the point. 

Tranquillity (off r.). Josiah Hedges? 

Josiah. I'm comin', ma — just as fast as I kin. ( To Nellie.) 
If the old woman ketches me a talking to you, she'll pull 
me over the coals. {Starts up.) Don't forget now, folks; 
come over to the farm. Here's a big apple for you, sis. 
(Throws one to Rachel.) Come over to-morrow, if ye 
kin; we're goin' to churn, and I'll give ye some prime butter- 
milk. 

Omnes. We will. 

Tranquillity (outside). Josiah ! 

Josiah. I'm a comin', ma. [Exit over bridge R. 

Ned. What an innocent old chap he is ! 

Nellie {goes up r.). Dear, oh, dear ! I wonder where 
Frank can be ? 

Ned. The last time I saw him he was sitting on a fence 
writing a love letter. 

Nellie. A love letter? A man can't write a love letter un- 
less he's in love, and he can't be in love unless he has some 
one to fall in love with. 

Ned. I guess he's found the " some one." 

Rachel. In the name of all that's good and great, who 
can she be ? 

Ned. She is no less a person than the daughter of our 
worthy friend who has just left us. 

Rachel and Nellie. What ? 

Ned. Fact. 

Nellie. You don't mean to tell me that my cousin would 
so far forget himself as to 

Ned. Why he's head over ears in love. I saw him fixing 
the pole for her clothes the other day, and that's a sure 
symptom. 

Professor {outside l. u. e.). Snakes ! Snakes ! Snakes ! 



UNCLE SI. 9 

{All run up stage l. Prof. Ticklepitcher runs on l. u. e., 
gesticulating wildly, ad. lib. He pulls snake out of his 
pants' legs. Ladies scream. The men kill it by stepping 
on it, etc. Prof, throws it off l. 2 e.) 

Ned. Why, if it isn't my old friend, Philander Tickle- 
pitcher. 

Prof. I'm his remains. 

Ned. What in the dickens brings you here? 

Prof. Snakes ! {Ladies scream.') Well, to tell the truth, 
I don't know. I was sauntering through yonder field, when I 
espied a quadruped of the bovine species. I sallied toward 
her, when a cow of the William persuasion bore down upon 
me. On I sped, as upon the wings of the wind. Finally we 
met. I have frequently been upon the horns of a dilemma, 
but never before upon the horns of a bu — bu — a William Cow. 
I came to terra firma after a short aerial voyage, and landed 
upon the tail end of a snake, who immediately coiied himself 
about my limb. The rest you know. It may only have been 
a garter snake, but I want no more garters like that one in 
mine. 

Rachel. Are you sure that snake is dead ? 

Prof. The part that I hit is. (Glancing R.) Say, Clear- 
field, I feel rather awkward ; can't you introduce me? 

Ned. Why certainly. Miss Parkman, permit me to present 
to you my old friend, Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher. (Both 
bow.) 

Prof. How do you do ? 

Ned. This is Miss Watterson, of Philadelphia. 

Prof. Yours truly and duly. {Bow.) 

Rachel. Charmed to meet you, sir. Permit me to inquire 
if you were at all injured by the 

Prof. Snake? Not in the least, although we were for a 
moment locked in a fond embrace. (Looking around.) Sum- 
mering, eh ! Delightful locality. Charming. The aroma ex- 
uding from the pansies, heliotropes and daisies permeates the 
entire atmosphere. 

Nellie. I see that you are an enthusiast on the subject of 
nature. 

Prof. Of a verity I am. I subsist upon nature. I adore 
the inanimate. I love the inanimate. The sagacious equine, 
the domestic canine, the purring feline — and above everything 
else (Sniffs.) Preparations for eating ? 



10 UNCLE SI. 

Ned. Yes, we dine regularly at the Hotel de Green Mountain. 

Prof. I have been dining very irregularly at the Hotel de 
" Few-and-far-betvveen." 

Ned. Well, professor, you are welcome to the commissary 
department. 

Prof. Ah, you have sounded the death knell of my hungry 
propensities. On the wings of the wind I fly. Ladies, until 
after the pancakes {bow), adieu. [Exit, R. 3 E. 

Nellie. Ned, where did you resurrect that ? 

Ned. He is an old friend of mine. 

Nellie. He looks like a very old friend. 

Rachel. Well, folks. (Rises. y I guess I will go down to 
the brook and wash my hands before supper. (Goes l.) Are 
you coming, Nell? [Exit, l. i e. 

Nellie. Presently. [Exit, l. u. e. 

Ned (goes r.). It would be a singular circumstance if I 
could strike up a flirtation between the eccentric Ticklepitcher 
and the old maidish Rachel. By Jove, the game, as far as a 
joke is concerned, is worth the powder. (Looks r.) I wonder 
if he will eat up everything in the larder. If my memory 
serves me, there are three events in his daily life — breakfast, 
dinner and supper. 

Nellie (enters l. 2 e.). Come on, Ned. (Tragically.) 
This way to the ablution department. 

Ned. Ha, ha ! Lead on, fair maid, I scent the conflict 

from afar. Fame blows her trumpet (Tin whistle blows.) 

Well, if that is fame's trumpet, she blows it mighty few. 

[Both exeunt, l. i e. 

(Noise outside, R. Tramp enters with a wheelbarrow load 
of cooking utensils, followed by Prof. Tramp grabs 
Prof, and throws him c, breaks bag of flour in his face, 
and exits with wheelbarrow, l 3 e.) 

Prof. Well, I'll be blowed. (Blows flour.) Nature, thou 
art a beautiful garden in which I am only a little flower. 
(Blows flour.) Of a verity, I think the evening meal will be 
postponed. The genus hobo has captured the supplies, and 
the inner man must dine once more at the Hotel de Few-and- 
far-between. (Looks l.) I think I see the denizens of this 
camping outfit yonder. I had better inform them that Gen, 
Coxey has been here with his entire army. (Rises.) I am 
coming, folks. The flower of the hobo army is coming. 

[Exit, l. 1 E. 



UNCLE SI. II 

Frank enters, r. u. e., on bicycle. 

Frank. Hello ! Hello ! everybody. Where are you ? I 
guess the fort is deserted. (Laugh outside l.) Hello — there 
they are. (Looks l.) There seems to be a stranger in camp. 
They all seem to be enjoying themselves. They are fortunate, 
I can't find any amusement to-day. Sketching is a bore, hunt- 
ing too fatiguing, and fishing is played out — I am tired of com- 
pany, and yet there is one exception. Ruth, the old farmer's 
daughter — what a misfortune it is that fate cast her lot among 
the buttercups and daisies. By Jove, if she were educated, 
she would make a wife fit for a king. 

Ruth (outside r. u. e.). Dad ! Oh, dad ! 

Frank (going up l.). There she comes now, looking as 
beautiful as a lily of the valley. (Comes r.) 

Ruth (enters over bridge r., with milking pails ; she comes 
down return piece to c, and sets pails down). Phew ! But 
I'm tired out. 

Frank. How do you do, Ruth ? Been milking ? 

Ruth. Yes. I milked three. The other two cows is 
farrow. 

Frank. Hadn't you better rest? (Picks up sketch book.) 

Ruth. Where be everybody ? 

Frank. Down to the brook, I guess. 

Ruth. I guess I'd better scoot, then. (Starts.) 

Frank. Why you've only just come. 

Ruth. I know that, but it ain't proper, 'cause you be here 
all alone. Ma says it ain't. 

Frank. Yes, but your mother is not here. 

Ruth. That's just what's the matter with Hannah. If I 
ain't home with them milk pails, ma'll soon be here. 

Frank. What makes you act and talk so strangely when I 
meet you ? 

Ruth. I dunno. Ma says we've got to look out for you 
fellers from town ; you're all the time talkin' torn foolery to us 
country gals. 

Frank. Oh go on, come over here and sit down. 

Ruth. I don't want to. Is that your sister that's campin' 
out here. (F*ank sits down on bench r.) 

Frank. No, it's my cousin. Come and sit down. 

Ruth. I don't want to. How old is she ? 

Frank. She's over seven. Come and sit down. 

Ruth. I don't want to. (Coming nearer.) Can she milk 
cows? 



12 UNCLE SI. 

Frank. That is one accomplishment she lacks. Come and 
sit down. 

Ruth. I don't want to. (Comes nearer.) If she wanted 
to, I could learn her. 

Frank. I'll speak to her about it. Come and sit down. 

Ruth. Will you promise not to talk strange like you did 
t'other day ? 

Frank. If you insist. Come and sit down. 

Ruth. I won't sit down there, I'll sit down here. (Sits on 
stage beside him.) 

Frank. Would you like to look at some of my etchings ? 

Ruth. Your what ? 

Frank. My etchings. 

Ruth. Do you itch ? 

Frank. No — no — my drawings, I mean. 

Ruth. Oh yes, please. (He hands her some drawings.) 

Frank. That's Herculaneum and Pompeii. 

Ruth. Who? 

Frank. Herculaneum and Pompeii. 

Ruth. Oh ! 

Frank. That is Cleopatra's needle. 

Ruth. I'd hate to sew with that needle. 

Frank. That is Washington crossing the Delaware. 

Ruth. Oh! (Looks over the pictures ; business.) Oh — 

h — h — ! Hadn't you ought to be ashamed ? 

Frank. Why — what's the matter? 

Ruth. That woman's dress has all fell off her up here. 

(Points to bosom.) 

Frank. Oh, no — that is what we call a decollette costume. 

Ruth. Call what ? 

Frank. Decollette. Evening dress. 

Ruth. Oh, say, what's that long piece what hangs on be- 
hind her dress ? 

Frank. That's her train. 

Ruth. Her what ? 

Frank. Her train. 

Ruth. Oh ! (Bus.) Oh, say ! That long piece on be- 
hind is what fell off of her up here, ain't it ? 

Frank. Perhaps. Say, Ruth, do you know what love is ? 

Ruth. Yes. Lies you fellers tell us gals. 

Frank. No, no. I mean do you know what a bonahde 
lover is ? 

Ruth. A what? 



UNCLE SI. 13 

Frank. A bonafide lover — a true lover. 

Ruth. Oh, a dead sure enough lover? Oh, yes. He's 
one that takes you to apple parin's and corn huskin's and 
singin' school, and does all the chores and everything you 
wanted him to do. 

Frank. Yes. 

Ruth. Say, Mr. Rolleston. If I had a lover, he'd carry 
that milk home and skim it, wouldn't he? 

Frank. Of course. 

Ruth. Gosh ! I wish I had two or three. 

Frank. Say, Ruth, tell me something about your home 
life. 

Ruth. You mean about our folks to home? Well, first of 
all there is dad. 

Frank. Dad ? I wouldn't say dad ; it is so uncouth. Say 
father. 

Ruth. Say which ? 

Frank. Father. 

Ruth. Father for my old dad? That sounds almost too 
dudefied for him. Well, first of all there is dad. I mean — 
what did you say his name was ? 

Frank. Father. 

Ruth. F — father, and ma, and me, and Jack. Dad — I 
mean father — he does the hayin' and tends to the stock ; and 
then we've got an Irishman named Flannigan — he helps dad — 
I mean father. I keep forgittin', don't I ? 

Frank. I should say you did. 

Ruth. I used to go to school some, but I don't get to go 
much now. 

Frank. I suppose your work keeps you tied pretty closely at 
home. 

Ruth. No, my ma keeps me tied to home. She's teachin' 
me how to darn socks now. I darned two pair of dad's — I 
mean father's — t'other night, and after I'd got 'em darned he 
darned me for darnin' them. Say, Mr. Rolleston, my ma taught 
me how to do croquet work. 

Frank. How to do what ? 

Ruth. Croquet work. 

Frank (laughs). Oh, you mean crochet work. 

Ruth. Aha ! Say, "Mr. Rolleston, why don't you come 
down here and live in the country? 

Frank. I might some day. 

Ruth. Just think the lovely air and fallin' dew 



14 UNCLE SI. 

Frank. We have lovely airs in the city — from the Italian 
Operas j and in regard to the falling dew — we have all kind of 
things fall due in the city. 

Ruth. If you lived here you would rise with the larks. 

Frank. I've been up on one all night. Ruth, your beauty, 
your simplicity of manner, your freedom from all guile, has 
created in my bosom a feeling I thought impossible to entertain. 

Ruth. Get off my frock. 

Frank. Never mind your frock ; let me read to you a life 
picture. 

Prof, {enters, l. u. e., down l). The fair one with 
the golden locks said she left her parasol hereabouts. I will 
explore. {Sees Ruth and Frank.) Don't mind me — I've got 
the same disease myself. [Exit, L. i E. 

Ruth. Is he your brother ? 

Frank. Well, I should hope not. My brother is the pretty 
little boy with the blue eyes. 

Ruth. Say, I like him. 

Frank {arm about her waist). Do you like him better 
than you do me ? 

Ruth. Say, if you don't take your arm away, I'll holler. 

Frank. Oh, don't. Most girls like to have an arm around 
their waist. 

Ruth. Do they? So do I, Mr. Rolleston. {Slipping 
away from him.) What makes you act so strange to me? 

Frank. It is because I love you. 

Ruth. This milk needs straining. {Starts for pails .) 

Frank. Never mind the milk, Ruth. I'll speak in a lan- 
guage you cannot misunderstand. With all the fervor of my 
nature I love you. 

Ruth. I don't think I know what you mean. Be ye a 
pop pin' ? 

Frank. Tell me, Ruth, do you love any one else? 

Ruth. None that I know of just now. 

Frank. Then let me seal my affection with a kiss. 

Ruth {business). No, sir-ree Bobby, not by a jug full. 
You've got to wait till I say yes, before you can cut up any 
shines like that. (Laugh outside.) Oh, here comes the camp- 
ers out. 'Twon't do to see me — my cheeks is burning like fire. 
Say, Mr. Rolleston, what is your front name ? 

Frank. Francis, although at school, they called me Frank. 

Ruth. Did they? Well then, Frankie, fetch along the 
milk. 



UNCLE SI. 15 

Frank. What ? I ? I never carried a pail of milk in. all 
my life. 

Ruth. Well, then, it's time you began. {Laugh outside.) 
Oh, I know you're skeered your friends will see you. {Bus.) 
If you are a good boy, I'll let you milk the cows to-morrow. 

(Frank picks up pail \ she all the time guying him. They 
exeunt l. u. e. Rachel, Ned and Nellie enter l. i e., 
laughing immoderately.) 

I Rachel. I'll laugh over that for ten years to come. 

Ned. Poor Ticklepitcher ! I don't think he knew the gun 
was loaded. 

Nellie {looking off.) Here he comes ! 

Ned. Let's give three cheers for Philander Ticklepitcher, 
the champion wing shot of the Green Mountains. {All cheer.) 
Hip ! Hip ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! Hurrah ! 

Prof, {enters, l. i e., with gun and dead bird). Ah, 
my friends, I see that you appreciate my keenness of vision. 

Rachel. I am glad to see that you are such a lover of 
sports. 

Prof. There are other things I love still more. 

Rachel. Name one. 

Prof. The pleasure of your charming society. (Prof. 
bows.) 

Rachel. Oh, don't mention it. 

Prof. I won't. {Aside.) I wonder if she could support a 
husband. 

Ned. Now, professor, I think we can prevail upon you to 
remain and join the party. {He protests ; they coax him ad. 
lib., and he consents.) 

Prof. Ah, you have overwhelmed me by the weight of 
your entreaties. I will e'en condescend to remain. 

Ned. Think of the pantry full of eatables, and the 

Prof. The pantry full of eatables ! Why the tramp stole 
it all. 

Omnes. What? 

Ned. A tramp ? Well, here's a pretty " how do you do." 
Which way did he go ? 

Prof. I couldn't see very plainly. I was in the flower 
garden at the time. I think he went that way. {Points l.) 
; Ned. I guess I'll go that way too. [Exit, l. u. e. 

Nellie. I guess I'll go that way three. [Exit, l. u. e. 

Prof. I guess I'll go that way four. {Starts l.) 



l6 UNCLE SI. 

Rachel. Ahem ! 

Prof. I have changed my mind ; I stay right here with 
you. 

Rachel. I am so glad you have condescended to remain 
with us. Now if you had any other engagement 

Prof. Speaking of engagements, were you ever engaged ? 

Rachel. No. Were you ? 

Prof. Once. 

Rachel. Once ? 

Prof. Once. I will relate the circumstances. It was a 
lovely moonlight eve. I sat upon the sofa with Maria. I had 
my arm around her waist — (fats.) merely an illustration — when 
suddenly an unseen enemy approached me from behind. It 
was the father of the said Maria. I was ejected from the 
parlor sofa to the front door yard without a moment's warning. 

Rachel. You don't say so? 

Prof. But I do say so. I had my grand revenge. I 
loaded my coat tail pockets full of scrap iron and shingle nails 
and went down to the house in question, as though I had en- 
joyed the performance of the evening before. I sat upon the 
same sofa with the same Maria. My arm was about her waist 
— ( bus.) more illustrations. I was about to murmur the words, 
"wilt thou," when I felt a movement behind the sofa. Papa 
appears upon the scene. One kick from papa and the said 
papa was squirming outside in the front door yard with a 
severe case of club foot. 

Nellie (runs on l. u. e.). Mail ! Mail ! I've got a 
letter. 

Rachel {rises). One for me, Nellie? (She gets a letter ; 
both ladies go up stage reading letters.) 

Prof. She leaves me — she leaves me and my charming 
conversation for a paltry postal card. I wonder if I haven't a 
letter about me. I might as well be out of the world as out of 
the fashion. (Finds letter.) Ah ! Here is one from my I 
banker in Philadelphia. (All run down and look over his I 
shoulder; reads.) " Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher. Will you J 
please call and settle that ninety-seven cents wash bill ? " (All 
laugh.) 

Ned {outside). Dinner. 

Prof. And I am ready for dinner, Miss Watterson, if ydu 
are fond of turkey, take a wing. (Offers her his arm a?id 
exit. ) 

Nellie. I guess I'll escort myself. [Exit, r. 3 e. 



UNCLE SI. 17 

Prof, (reenters, r. 2 e.). Methinks that previous to taking 
my midday meal I will hie me to yon brooklet and partake of 
my annual bathlet. [Exit, l. i e. 

Ned {enters, l. u. e.). Well, folks, I captured the tramp. 
{Looks around.*) I guess they have all gone to dinner. {En- 
ter Frank, l. u. e.) What's the matter with you, Frank? 
You've got a face on you as long as the moral law ? 

Frank. I'm going to get married. 

Ned. No ? 

Frank. Fact. Did you ever come in contact with an 
electric battery ? 

Ned. Never did. 

Frank. Then permit me to give you a shock. The future 
Mrs. Rolleston is none other than the daughter of farmer Hedges. 

Ned. Ruth Hedges ! I'm shocked ; but don't impose 
upon me just because I can be imposed upon. Do you mean 
to say that Frank Rolleston — Sergeant Major of one of New 
York's crack volunteer companies, whose epaulettes have daz- 
zled the eyes of many a fair one, and whose autograph has 
been sought after by the elite of Murray Hill, would come up 
here in Vermont and throw his fortune and his epaulettes at 
the feet of a woodland nymph ? Common sense forbids. 

Frank. True, nevertheless. A month ago I would have 
scouted the idea. I tell you, Ned, she is a sunbeam through 
the clouds. 

Ned. Well, Frank, I'll be your best man, and in case you 
are suddenly taken ill, I'll even volunteer to take your place. 

Frank. Much obliged. 

Ned. Come in and have dinner. {Goes l.) Don't for- 
get, Frank, the bottom layer of the wedding cake belongs to 
me. [Exit, l. i e. 

Josiah (r. u. e., outside). Ruth! Oh, Ruth ! {Enters 
on bridge.) Ruth Melinda Sophonisba Hedges ! where be ye? 
{Crosses from bridge.) That gal goes a gallavantin' around 
somewhere all day long, and don't do half her chores. {Comes 
down return piece.) Ruth ! oh Ruth ! {Sees Frank.) 
Mornin', Mr. Rolleston, hain't seen nothin' of my Ruth here- 
abouts, have ye? 

Frank. Yes, she was here a few moments ago with her \ 
milking pails. 

Josiah. I guess she's got to home by this time. You'll 
'scuse me for interrupting on ye. {Goes r.) Nice weather, 
ain't it ? 



1 8 UNCLE SI. 



Frank. Yes. Say, Mr. Hedges (he turns), could I see 
you for a few moments? 

Josiah (returns'). Wall, I hain't got nothin' very special 
on hand. But you'll have to do most of the talkin', *cause I 
ain't much of a hand at conversationalizin' . {Sits R.) Now 
if you want to talk, you come round and tackle ma; she'll 
talk to you. (Lights pipe.) Now you can jist fire ahead and 
give us the perspectus. 

Frank. Mr. Hedges, I will no doubt surprise you by the 
tenor of my remarks. 

Josiah. Well, arter hearin' ye sing tenor in meetin' yis- 
tiddy, I don't think ye kin. 

Frank. I mean — what I am about to say will no doubt 
surprise you. 

Josiah. Ye hain't found out where the old speckled hen 
has hid her nest, have ye ? 

Frank. No. 

Josiah. Well, mayhap you've got wind of what prizes they 
are going to put up at the county fair. 

Frank. Hardly. 

Josiah. Well, maybe you've been down to the town hall 
and heard tell about the polytical meetin'. Ye see there's 
some talk about puttin' me up for jestice of the peace on the 
know nothing ticket. 

Frank. You are wrong again, Mr. Hedges. 

Josiah. Well, I'll gin it up. What's it about ? 

Frank. It is about your Ruth. 

Josiah. Ha, ha, ha ! You're just like all the rest of the 
young folks around these diggin's. They all takes a fancy to 
my little gal. 

Frank. She has aroused a feeling in my heart that has 
lain dormant since my birth. 

Josiah. She's cut up the same darn caper with all the rest 
of the young fellers. Now there's Eli Green and Seth Mar- 
tin Say, ye hain't never met Seth nor Eli, have ye? 

Frank. Can't say that I ever did. 

Josiah. Well, ye hain't missed much. 

Frank. To which one of these swains does she extend her 
preference ? 

Josiah. Come again. 

Frank. I mean which one does she like the better? 

Josiah. Oh, Ruth ? She don't care two straws for either 
one. Eli helps her in the chores, and Seth takes her home 



UNCLE SI. IQ 

now and again from singin' school ; but what's ail this got to 
dc with me ? 

Frank. Just this, Mr. Hedges. I love your daughter, and 
with your permission and her consent, I will make her my 
wife. 

Josiah. Now ye stop right where ye be. Am I under- 
standin' of ye correctly that ye want to marry my leetle Ruth ? 

Frank. You are. 

Josiah. Mr. Rolleston, my leetle gal has been reared in a 
different school from you. 

Frank. My love for her would soon transform her, and an 
education would fit her to grace the halls of society. 

Josiah. And how about her teachin' ? Ever since she was 
a little toddler she's been taught to know the right. She knows 
no wrong. I ain't much of a hand at talkin', but, Mr. Rolles- 
ton, you've sorter upset me. I've heern tell about the decep- 
tions of young citified life, and I'm afraid of it. Surely a man 
like you, young, eddicated, and good lookin', ain't got no 
cause to go hungerin' for a woman to tie to. My little Ruth 
is all I've got on earth that I really care about. She's as 
pure a bein' as ever breathed the breath of life. I hain't a re- 
fusin' of you ; I'm simply a warnin' ye. If you'll be a good 
husband to her and treat her right, she's yourn. But if ye 
mistreat her and wrong her, and don't stand by her when she 
needs yer comfort and love, I'll twist your headoff your shoul- 
ders. {Bus.) You'll 'scuse me, Mr. Rolleston, for flrin' up 
that way, but the fact of the matter is, I do so love my little 
Ruth that — gosh darn it ! I couldn't help it. When I get ex- 
cited I sometimes stutter, and when I stutter I don't mean 
more than half I say. Did I stutter that time? 

Frank I didn't hear you. 

Josiah. Then I mean every darn word I said. [Exit r. u.e. 

Ruth enters l. u. e. 

Ruth. Dad ! Oh, dad ! 

Frank. Stay a moment, Ruth. 

Ruth. Not now, Mr. Rolleston. Them pigs have 

Frank. Never mind the pigs — I have just spoken to your 
father, and he has given his consent 

Ruth. To what ? 

Frank. To our marriage. Ruth, I love you, and I want 
you to become my wife. 



20 UNCLE SI. 

Ruth. Your wife? Yes, Frank, if you'll be good and 
kind to me, I'll be the best little wife in all the world to you. 

{They embrace l. c. Tramp enters l. 2 e. with Tickle- 
pitcher's clothes in his hand. Hat on head. Tickle- 
pitcher enters in a barrel L. 2 e., yelling for clothes. 
Rachel and Nellie appear on bridge r. u. e. Ned 
appears L. u. e. General consternation as curtain de- 
scends. Ruth and Frank, c. ; Tramp, r. ; Prof., r. c; 
Ned, l. u. e. \ Rachel and Nellie at back r.) 



ACT II. 

SCENE. — A farm yard ; full stage. House r. 2 e. Barn l. 
2 e. (?/<?# gateway in c. Fence from r. 3 e. /# l. 3 e. 
0/dT f^a/r #<?#r house. Bench with pan on near house. 
Towel on house. Hen coop near bam. Harness on fence. 
Hay fork and rake at back. Animal effects during act. 

Flannigan {discovered at rise, drinking from pail). Well, 
begorra, it's mighty tough on a dacent man when he's obliged 
to drink such stuff as that. That's the worst of livin' so far 
from town. I'd just as lieve be dead and buried as to be livin' 
here. The divil a wan of me do I see from mornin' till night 
but ducks and hens and cows. It's a sorry day for me when 
I come to work on this farm. Well, I'm here for a while, and 
I'll make the best of it. 

Tranquillity {enters r. from house). Come, come now, 
bustle about. There's a thousand and one things to 'tend to. 
There is the chickens to feed, horses to water, cows to be driven 
to pasture, wood to saw and split, drain to be dug, field of 
meadow hay to be cocked up, and law knows what all ; and 
there ye stand jist as though there wan't a thing to be done. 
My stars above ! I never see sich a man as you be. Come 
now, fly around and bustle about. [Exit in house. 

Flannigan. Do you mind that? I think I'll like the 
place. If that woman was my wife I'd break her back four- 
teen times a day. {Noise in house, Tranquillity jawing some- 
one.) Do ye hear them? Fight, ye divils, ye, fight. Let 
me see, I have four weeks' work to do this afternoon. What 
will I do first ? I think I'll milk the ducks. 

[Exit, l. u. E., calling out " Quack, quack, quack." 

Tramp {enters from r. u. e. ; goes through gateway to 
house. Knocks. Tranquillity appears). If you please, 
ma'am, I am a poor man with a large family of children. They 
are starving, ma'am ; all they have to eat is angel cake. Now 
if you have any cold pie 

Tranquillity. Pie ? No, Sir-ree, I'll give you no pie. I 
have some bread here I want to get rid of, and if you will saw 
me a stick or two of wood, I'll give you a slice or two. 

21 



22 UNCLE SI. 

Tramp. I ain't much of a hand at sawing wood ; is it soft 
or hard ? 

Tranquillity. Hardwood. (Tramp groans.) I believe 
you're shiftless. 

Tramp. I'm pretty nigh shirtless ; where's the wood ? 

Tranquillity. Behind you. 

Tramp {looks at it). Could I have it brought nearer to me ? 

Tranquillity. If you don't saw the wood in about two 
minutes, I'll set the dog on you. 

Tramp. I guess I'd better saw the wood. {Business.) 

Tranquillity. I guess ye better had. [Exit in house. 

Josiah {enters from barn with pitchfork). Hello ! what 
are ye doin' at that saw-horse ? 

Tramp. I'm trying to make it go. Ye see, bein' at this 
time temporarily embarrassed, I'm obliged to go to work in 
order to eat. 

Josiah. That's a good policy. Where do you come from ? 

Tramp. From Massachusetts. My forefathers come over 
in the Mayflower and landed on Plymouth Rock — and I've 
been rocky ever sence. 

Josiah. I want to know ! Well, you don't seem to have 
got along very well. 

Tramp. Oh, I kinder creep along. Ye see, I git a pension 
that helps me a out a leetle. 

Josiah. Was you in the war ? 

Tramp. I was the cause of the war. Ye see, I went out 
from Indianny. I 'listed for the month, and reenlisted for two 
years. I would have fit the war out, but our colonel told me 
one day to strike for our country and home. I watched my 
chance and struck for home. Say, how do ye saw that wood ? 
I ain't much of a hand at sawing wood. 

Josiah. Well, I'll give ye a few pinters; you don't seem to 
have the hang of it. Time you've sawed as much wood as I 
have you'll know more about it. {Business.) 

Tranquillity {opens door). Well ! I swan ! {Takes her 
husband by the ear.) You get in that house ! The idee of 
you encouraging that lazy good for nothing tramp. {Pushing 
her husband in house ; to Tramp.) Now you scatter ! 

Tramp. I hate to leave good society, but 

Tranquillity. Git ! 

Tramp. All right, ma'am. {Goes l. u. e. ; turns to her.) 
Say, do you know what I think of you ? You're the homeliest 
old chromo I ever see. [Exit, l. u. e. 



UNCLE SI. 23 

(She makes a break after him with broom and hits Flannigan 
as he enters from barn.) 

Flannigan. Much obliged, ma'am. [Exit in barn. 

Tranquillity. Well, I swan ! I nearly killed the Irish- 
man ! Land sakes alive, there's nothing but trouble. Ruth a 
gftting married, Si a spillin' kerosene ile over his clean shirt, 
the bread not risin', tramp a pesterin' the life out of a body, 
and me not dressed for the weddin'. (Calls.') Here you, 
Flannigan. (He enters from barn.) 

Flannigan. Well, what the divil is the matter with you now ? 

Tranquillity. Have ye got them cows driven to pasture 
yet? 

Flannigan. Not yet, ma'am. 

Tranquillity. Well, great Jerusha ! what time of day do 
you expect to git things done ? 

Flannigan. I dunno. When I find out, I will let you 
know. 

Tranquillity. Don't give me none of your sass. 

Flannigan. Oh, go fall down somewhere. 

[Exit in barn. 

Tranquillity. You imperent critter. (Gets broom and 
strikes Prof, as he enters from rear of barn.) Great suffering 
snakes ! Another tramp ! 

Prof. Entered for the sweepstakes. Madam, I am pleased 
to meet you. Your style of greeting is novel, but nevertheless 
breezy. 

Tranquillity. Where on earth did you come from ? 

Prof. You mean where on earth did. I go to ? 

Tranquillity. You must 'scuse me, sir, but really I didn't 
see you a-comin'. 

Prof. Well, your aim was just as straight as though you 
had been looking. 

Tranquillity. Might I ask your business? 

Prof. I have no business, ma'am. I have a profession. 
My mission upon earth is to build up the uncouth mind — to 
teach the young ideas how to shoot. 

Tranquillity. Shoot? Oh, I see; you're a-selling guns 
and gunpowder and 

Prof. Ye Gods ! I ? Madam, you do not grasp. I am a 
scientist. 

Tranquillity. I want to know if ye be. We've got two of 
them Christian Scientists in our neighborhood. Samantha 



24 UNCLE SI. 

Ann Higgins got cured of the brown chitis by one of them. 
Maria Rogers is thinking of joinin'. 

Prof. I see you are still laboring under a delusion. I am 
a teacher. 

Tranquillity. Oh, I see. Are ye looking for a job teach- 
ing our school ? Si, my old man, is one of the trustees. 
Elijah Hopkins is head trustee. They're paying the teacher 
they've got now eighty dollars a year, and he boards around 
among the taxpayers ; stopped a month with us. 

Prof. I am not looking for any opening for a pedagogue. 
{She looked at her petticoat, .) I called to see Wm. Hedges. 

Tranquillity. My old man? Well, he's in the house. 
He's peelin' 'taters. Any particular business ? 

Prof. My call is of a friendly order. 

Tranquillity. Now you can't rope him into no friendly 
orders. He belongs to two of them now. Had to put a 
mortgage on the farm to pay off his dues. 

Tramp {enters l. u. e.). Say ma'am 

Tranquillity. Git! {Very loud.) Of all the persecuted 
{exit in house), down-trodden women on this earth, I'm the 
most to be pitied ; tramps and bums and peddlers, book agents 
and agents for friendly orders, and law knows what all. 

Prof. My friend, is that lady your mother? (Tramp gives 
a look of disgust and exit, l. u. e.) When I reach my lodg- 
ings, I will make a note in my diary to this affect — " Beware 
of talkative women — they are dangerous. ' ' 

Josiah {enters from house). Good-morning, neighbor. 

Prof. Good-morning, friend Hedges. Beautiful day for the 
wedding, isn't it? 

Josiah. Sorter. 

Prof. I suppose the well-known saying will soon be ex- 
emplified, — two souls with but a single thought, two hearts that 
beat as one. 

Josiah. I s'pose so. Say, professor, I most forgot to tell you, 
but ma just put me in mind of it, — that bugler alarm of yourn 
is a fust-class invention. 

Prof. Your opinion coincides with the rest of mankind. 
But in what manner does my burglar alarm concern your 
esteemed spouse? 

Josiah. My steam plows ? 

Prof. My modus operandi 

Josiah. You have to give me a new deal, professor, I 
hain't got either ace, face, or trump. 



UNCLE SI. 25 

Prof. I see that my diction is too opaque for the dominion 
of your Lilliputian comprehension ; I will therefore be compelled 
to elucidate and clarify my harangue by the expurgation of all 
polysyllabic verbosity. 

Josiah. I guess two doses of senna and salts would 
cure ye. 

Prof. Wait a moment, friend Hedges. I mean to say, 
in what manner does my burglar alarm concern your wife ? 

Josiah. Oh ! Have you been talking about ma all this 
time? Well, t'other night I was out a leetle late. I was down 
to the Town Hall to a pollytickle meetin'. 

Prof. To a — what T 

Josiah. To a pollytickle meetin'. Ye see, there's some 

Calk about puttin' me up for justice of the peace on the 

ticket and I was a speachyfyin' to some of my constitutioneers. 
Wall, I got home about two o'clock in the mornin'. I found 
that ma had locked me out, and I started to crawl in the 
kitchen winder, when that darn bugler alarm of yourn went off 
in ma's room. When I got inside, I found ma a-flopping 
around on the floor like a pea on a hot shovel. She was scared 
most to death. Scared so she couldn't speak. 

Prof. She must have been scared. 

Josiah. Well, I was glad on it. I got a good night's rest 
that night anyhow. But say, professor, ye hain't had yer break- 
fast, have ye? 

Prof. Not as yet, but I fain would chase the delusive 
phantom of hope. 

Josiah. Jest so. You'd better have a leetle bite with us 
this mornin'. 

Prof. Of a verity I will. If there is one thing more 
than another I do really adore, it is an impromptu menu. 

Josiah. I don't know whether ma has any of them cooked 
or not. 

Prof. I will e'en ascertain. [Exit in house. 

Josiah. He's a darn smart cuss. He's slicker than a cup 
of custard. 

Ruth (enters from house). Say, daddy, how do you like 
my dress ? 

Josiah. Say ! say ! You look jist slaptitudinous ! My, 
my ! You look like your ma did when we was fust married. 
She's changed since. Say, leetle gal, this is the last day we 
is goin' to have any leetle daughter to home. (Cries.) 
Mighty hard, Ruth, mighty hard. 



26 UNCLE SI. 

Ruth. Now, you old granny you, don't you cry. Why 
don't you be brave like me? Don't you see how b-b-brave I 
be. {Cries.) 

Josiah. Now don't you start blubberin', 'cause you're 
worse than I be. {Embraces her ; she breaks away.*) 

Ruth. Look out, daddy, for my new duds. 

Josiah. Gosh ! I forgot them duds ; must be keerfui of the 
dress — it cost eight dozen eggs. 

Ruth. Now, daddy, don't you get lonesome. I'll come 
over to the house every week and darn your socks for ye and 
sew buttons on your shirts, and I'll 

Josiah. Ruthie, ye needent mind. Frank will need ye to 
darn his now. And that reminds me — up in the city ye ought 
to have a pooty good chance to sell a pair now and again to 
some of Frank's chums. I'll allow ye two cents commission on 
a pair. Now, Ruthie, ye won't be ashamed of having your old 
dad call around and see ye once in a while, will ye ? 

Ruth. Why, no, daddy. 

Josiah. And ye won't let none of them smart city fellers 
call me a rubber-neck, will ye ? 

Ruth. Not if I can help it, daddy. 

Josiah. Say, Ruth, Professor Ticklepitcher was here a 
Avhile ago, and I invited him in to have a bite to eat. Say, 
Ruth, he wanted to know if ma had any sloptitudinous slap- 
jacks for breakfast. [Exit m house. 

Ruth. My stars, I wish it was all over ! I'm all of a 
tremble. It would be a funny thing if I fainted when I was 
gitting spliced. I wonder if city girls faint when they're 
spliced. Maria Rogers fainted once, and they poured a pail of 
water on her, and she came too pooty quick. Let me see if I 
know what to say. "Ruth Hedges, will you take this man, 
Frank Rolleston, to be your lawful husband until death us do 
part? " Of course I will. Now for the faint. 

(She faints ; Prof, enters from house eating a pancake ; he 
catches her on his right ar?n, puts her in chair and fans 
her with pancake.) 

Prof. If you are fond of fans, might I induce you to eat a 
piece of this one ? 

Ruth. Oh, professor, you are so funny. 

Prof. Thanks. It runs in our family to be funny. Are 
you subject to fainting spells ? 

Ruth. Not exactly. Sometimes I have spasms. 



UNCLE SI. 27 

Prof. Overcome by the prospective hymeneal event. I 
only hope it is not a leap in the dark you are taking. You no 
doubt will pardon me, an entire stranger, for venturing to 
make such a suggestion, but at any time in the future, should 
that future not prove as bright as you at present paint it, and 
you should feel that you needed a true friend, might I venture 
to remind you that you will ever find a true one in your 
present impecunious acquaintance, Prof. Philander Tickle- 
pitcher ? 

Ruth. Oh, professor, you are too kind. 

Prof. Yes, when I was born there were two of a kind — the 
other fellow died. 

Ruth. Can you tell fortunes ? 

Prof. Well, I am credited with having the faculty of look- 
ing into the future with the same degree of clearness that others 
can look into the past. I am the seventh son, and my father 
was the seventh son of a son of a — seventh son of a seventh 
son. Permit me. {Takes her hand.} I see before me by this 
line a beautiful home — plenty of friends, who will treat you as 
an inferior for a time, but they will speedily warm toward you. 
This line indicates broken hearts. Ah, your marriage will be 
productive of children. 

Ruth {eagerly). Boys or girls ? 

Prof. The signs are non-committal. Here is a veritable 
network of lines, — happiness, wealth, longevity, travel in 
foreign lands, social distinction — now comes a change. A 
woman appears on the scene — a woman with a sweet classical 
face 

Tranquillity {stands in door of house). Ruth, come in 
here and peel these pertaters. [Exit in house. 

Ruth. 'Scuse me, Prof. Ticklepitcher. \_Exit in house. 

Prof. Oh, what a fall was there my countrymen ! From 
the sublime to the ridiculous — from Luna to terra firma. {Sits 
on bench underneath bam window ; Flannigan throws out a 
forkfuil of hay upon him.) Halloa ! up there ! 

Flannigan {appears at window). Hey? 

Prof. Thanks, I've just had some. 

Flannigan. Did I throw that hay on you ? 

Prof. I had the misfortune to be underneath it when it fell. 
It seems to me I have seen your face before. 

Flannigan. It's been there for thirty years. 

Prof. Are you one of the attaches of this institution ? 

Flannigan. What's that, sir ? 



28 UNCLE SI. 

Prof. Are you one of the menials ? 

Flannigan. No, sir, I'm an A. P. A. 

Prof, {aside). Remarkably smart fellow. What time do 
the marital festivities begin ? 

Flannigan. Hey ? 

Prof. At what hour will these two souls be united in con- 
nubial bliss? 

Flannigan. We have supper, sir, sometimes after dinner. 

Prof. Thanks. That is all the information I require. 
Good-morning. 

Flannigan. Mornin', sir. {Closes window.) 

Prof. I will now hie me to the banqueting hall. The 
inner man cries out for food, and the outer man must learn to 
obey the commands of the inner man. [Exit in house, r. 

Frank {enters l. u. e., reading letter). " Dear Frank: 
the news of your betrothal has just reached me. Consternation 
gave way to sorrow when I saw by the tenor of your letter that 
your decision was final. The news has filled the hearts of your 
family and friends with unutterable regret, and we can only 
pray that some event may occur which will cause you to give 
heed to counsel more mature than yours. Your loving 
mother." {Folds letter.) Mother, the sweetest and dearest 
of beings, I had hoped that purity of soul, in your case, would 
break down the barriers of family prejudice. ( Wedding bells 
heard outside. ) My wedding bells ! I can only hope their song 
of joy may never change to a knell of sorrow. 

Ruth {enters from house). Hello, Frank ! I'm so glad 
to see you. 

Frank. Are you ? 

Ruth. Why, Frank, what's the matter ? Be you sorry we's 
going to get hitched ? 

Frank. To get what ? 

Ruth. To get spliced — married ? 

Frank. Why, certainly not. 

Ruth. Then why don't you give me a good big hug, like 
you did yesterday? {Hug.) Say, Frank, you look scrump- 
tious. How do I look ? 

Frank. Very nicely ; who made your trousseau ? 

Ruth. My what ? Oh ! 

Frank. Your wedding garments. 

Ruth. Oh ! Maria Rogers cut it, ma basted it, and I sewed 
it. How do you like it ? 

Frank. Well, it seems 



UNCLE SI. 29 

Ruth {quickly). What's the matter with the seams? Be 
they busted ? 

Frank. No ; I mean that it rc%..t be deemed by some peo- 
ple slightly in advance of the fashion plate. 

Ruth. Say, Frank, when we get hitched — I mean married 
— we'll be made one, won't we? 

Frank. I suppose so. 

Ruth. Who'll be the one — you or me? 

Frank. I'll let you be the one. 

Ruth. Will you? I'm so glad. You'll go everywhere 
with me, won't you ? {Business.) You'll let me learn how to 
play the pianny? {Bus.) And ride a bicycle? {Bus.) 
And you'll let me keep your pocketbook? 

Frank. I guess I will draw the line there. 

Ruth. Say, Frank, hug me again. {Bus.) 

Josiah {enters from house). Hi! Hi! there! What are 
you two children a doin' of? Frank, I'm a good mind to 
spank ye. Ruth Melinda, I'm ashamed on ye. Your ma and 
me was married a long time afore we cut up any sich monkey 
doodle shines. Say, Ruth, where is that air china collar button 
yer ma bought me ? 

Ruth. Now where on earth did I put that collar button ? 

Oh, I know; it's in the tin teapot. I'll go upstairs and 

{Starts r.) 

Josiah. Never mind. I'll find it. Say, Frank {crosses to 
r.), have I got on one of your undershirts? This thing ain't 
•got no sleeves in it. 

Frank. Perhaps you have got on one of your wife's. 

Josiah. Great Scott ! [Exit in house quick. 

Ruth. Say, Frank, have you got another hug left ? 

Frank. Just one. 

Ruth. That's the one I want. {Hug ; Frank exit in house.) 
Land sakes, I'm gitting nervouser and nervouser. Why, there's 
my little chickie, and she ain't had her breakfast yet. {Bus. 
with gloves and skirt.) Here, chick ! chick! 

Rev. Mr. Rolleston {enters l. u. e. through gateway). I 
presume I have been rightly directed. {Sees Ruth.) Ah, 
young lady. 

Ruth. Yes, sir — chick ! chick ! {Bus.) 

Rolleston. Is this the house of Mr. Josiah Hedges ? 

Ruth. No, sir, this is the hen house. 

Rolleston. This {points r.) is the house to which I refer. 

Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! chick ! 



30 UNCLE SI. 

Rolleston. Will he receive callers ? 

Ruth. I guess so — he's just putting on his shirt. 

Rolleston. Do you know a young gentleman by the name 
of Frank Rolleston ? 

Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! 

Rolleston. Plave you ever seen the young lady whom he 
is about to marry ? 

Ruth. Oh, yes, sir — chick ! chick ! 

Rolleston. Is she beautiful — I mean, in mind ? 

Ruth. I never saw her mind. 

Rolleston. I am afraid she is coarse and ignorant. 

Ruth. She's got a good pure heart, and that'counts for some- 
thing in this world. 

Rolleston {aside). This marriage must be prevented. 

Ruth. Be you some relative of Frank's? 

Rolleston. I am his father. 

Ruth. Jehosophat ! {Jumps up.) I'll go and tell him. 
{Crosses to r. ) He'll be tickled to death to see you. 'Scuse 
me, sir. [Exit in house. 

Rolleston. I must endeavor to still my nerves. My love 
for my only son must be set aside. His future prospects must 
not be imperilled by a marriage from which nothing but un- 
happiness can ensue. 

Josiah {in house). Ruth, who's asking for me? I ain't had 
time to shave yet. {Enters ; business.) Was you a desiring to 
see me, sir ? 

Rolleston. You are Mr. Josiah Hedges, are you 
not? 

Josiah. Lately elected justice of the peace. You're the 
new minister, I reckin ; I'm one of the deacons and I 

Rolleston. You are in the wrong. I understood there is 
to be a ceremony performed here to-day. 

Josiah. A what-er-ker-mony ? 

Rolleston. A wedding. 

Josiah. Yes, something or other of that sort is about to 
take place. Might I ask your name ? 

Rolleston. I am the Rev. John Rolleston. 

Josiah. What ? Frank's father ? I'm agreebly s'prised. 
{Shakes hands.) Howdy. {Goes to door.) Ma, make an- 
other place at the table, and put on the yeller napkins. {To 
Rolleston. ) Have you got a rig ? 

Rolleston. No, I came by train. Mr. Hedges — I pre- 
sume by the name, you are the father of the young girl to 



UNCLE SI. 31 

whom my son is betrothed. I must tell you, in all candor, that 
I must raise my voice in protest. 

Josiah. Eh ? 

Rolleston. I must object to this marriage. 

Josiah. Object to it ? 

Rolleston. My son has been reared in a different school 
from your daughter. He has grand opportunities awaiting him. 
He is heir to a large estate and a grand career is before him. 

Josiah. And my leetle gal's father is a justice of the peace. 

Rolleston. If this marriage takes place, my son, as soon 
as the glamour of love has faded, will stray from the pathway 
of right. 

Josiah. Well, Ruth will yank him back again. Ye see she 
takes after her ma, and her ma is a yanker from yank town. 

Rolleston. I do not wish to misjudge your motives. My 
cloth entitles me to the respect of all. I am a minister of the 
Gospel, yet I am capable of error. If there be any way in 
which this union can be avoided, if money will tempt you 

Josiah. Stop right where ye be. You're a father — so be I. 
My child is jest as dear to me as yourn is to you. She may 
not be as eddicated, but she's as pure a bein' as ever God's 
sun shined on. Now I'm nothing but an old Vermont farmer 
— I ain't got no citified ways — I ain't rich — no, nor I ain't 
poor, but there ain't enough money in the whole of New York 
to tempt old Si. Hedges to sell the happiness of his leetle child. 
You'll 'scuse me if I spoke up too strong to ye, you bein' a 
preacher, but the fact of the matter is, there's a still small 
voice 

Tranquillity (in house). Josiah Hedge's be you a comin' ? 

Josiah. Mornin', sir. [Exit in house. 

Rolleston. My position certainly is a false one. My 
heart prompts me to stifle worldly pride, and think only of the 
happiness of my son. 

Frank {enters from house'). My father ! 

Rolleston. My son ! {Embrace.) Frank, is it true that 
you are to be married ? 

Frank. It is. 

Rolleston. Are you aware of the prospects in store for 
you ? Have you thought of the family history, unsullied by a 
single stain ? 

Frank. I have thought of all. 

Rolleston. Your mother has chosen a wife for you. 

Frank. I have chosen my own wife. 



32 UNCLE SI. 

Rolleston. Your friends will ostracize you. 

Frank. I will then seek the society of my wife. 

Rolleston. The money willed you by your grandparents 
reverts to charity if you marry against the wishes of your 
family. 

Frank. The love of one true, honest woman, atones for 
the loss of a thousand fortunes. 

Rolleston. My son, you have been reared in the lap of 
luxury. A mother's watchful devotion and a father's solicitude 
have cleared the brambles from your pathway of life. Your 
home has been a Paradise in which you have reigned, a God. 
Let no shame tarnish the scutcheon, let no serpent enter the 
portals of that earthly paradise. 

Frank. Father, during my lifetime I have never disobeyed 
you. Reverence for you has ever been mingled with affection 
for my mother. You have been to me the dearest and best of 
parents, and I have tried to be a dutiful son. This, however, 
is a case where the happiness of a lifetime is involved ; my 
honor is at stake, and that honor must stand unblemished be- 
fore all the world. {Enter Ruth from house R.) Father, 
this is my promised bride, Miss Ruth Hedges. 

Rolleston {slightly amazed). Have I heard aright? This 
is the one to whom you have plighted your troth ? 

Ruth. I'm goin' to be Frank's wife. 

Rolleston. Do you love my son ? 

Ruth. Love him ! Why, I think more of Frank than I do 
of my chickens. 

Rolleston. Will you make him happy? 

Ruth. I will try, sir. I know just what you are thinking 
about. I ain't eddicated and stylish like you'd want me to be, 
but I love him so dearly. {Rims to him and kneels.) Please 
don't take him away from me — please don't ! 

Rolleston {after slight pause, hand on her head). I hope 
I am making no mistake. Frank, my son, kneel before me. 
(Frank kneels.) May the giver of all good, the searcher of all 
hearts, bless this union of souls and lives — may no dark cloud 
o'ershadow the horizon of their future. {Wedding bells .) Let 
the reverberation of those chimes awaken an answering echo 
within you, to forever obey the Divine mandates of the Master. 
In His name do I bless thee. Whom God hath joined let 
no man put asunder. 

CURTAIN. 



ACT III. 

SCENE. — The home of Frank Rolleston near the Hedges' 
farm. Fancy chamber in 3; d. in f., l. Sofa l. c. 
Fireplace l. 2 e. Easel with picture, near r. 2 e. Table at 
back near window in R. flat. Lights dim at rise. 

Ruth, (discovered at rise sitting on the floor in fro fit of fire, 
with her head on sofa; she sings a verse of '" Ln the Gloam- 
ing." The lights gradually rise. She sits on sofa l.). 
'Tain't no use tryin', ever since Frank took to paintin' them 
air picters, I can't do nothin' with him, but I don't care — I 
know he loves me. (Rises and crosses to R.) I've got his coat 
and his paintin' things all ready, and dinner is almost ready 
too. I wish he'd let me cook for him, but he won't. He says 
that girls as marries city gents mustn't know how to cook or do 
anything but sit in the parlor and do the agreeable to the folks 
what calls. I don't do anything right nowadays. (Looks r.) 
Oh, there's his new picter he's a paintin'. I wonder if I could 
paint a picter. (Gets brush and palette.) I'm goin' to try. 
Jack will just be tickled to death when he sees what I've done. 
I'll paint a rainstorm on top of the mountain. (Faints.) Oh, 
that looks so nateral I'll have to put an umbreller over the 
picter. Oh my, the rain is all runnin' down the mountains. 
I'll have to put some frost on and freeze it up. (Faints.) 
Frank will be as mad as a wet hen when he comes and sees 
that. Perhaps he won't notice it. Somehow I don't seem to 
be able to please him any more. ( Crosses l.) 

Frank (enters d. in f. l.). Phew ! it's cold ! 

Ruth (runs to him). Is it cold, Frank? (Helps him with 
overcoat.) Let's skin a rabbit. 

Frank (aside). Skin a rabbit! More slang! (Aloud.) 
It's dreadfully cold walking up from the depot. A month ago 
I would not have minded it, but now 

Ruth (on sofa). Frank, come here and sit down, and tell 
me what you've been a doin' of all day. 

Frank. "Been a doin' of all day!" Ruth, how often 
must I correct you ? It seems as though you would never 
learn. 

33 



34 UNCLE SI. 

Ruth. Oh, yes, I will. Only the other day you said I was 
a doin' better continerally. 

Frank. Continually. 

Ruth. Continerusly. 

Frank. Continually. 

Ruth. Contin-o-wal-ly. 

Frank. That's perfectly correct. 

Ruth. I thought I'd git it after a while. Say, Frank, did 
ye sell your picter ? 

Frank. Picture. 

Ruth. Picter. 

Frank. Picture — picture — picture. 

Ruth. Picter — picter — picter. 

Frank. It's no use, Ruth, I am getting tired of correcting 
you. Go bring my colors, and I'll paint a while. (Sits r.) 

RUth. Afore supper, Frank? 

Frank. No — be fore supper. 

Ruth. Very well then, be fore supper. \_Exit r. u. e. 

Frank (on chair near easel). This is a humdrum sort of a 
life. Fight against it as I may, every day it becomes more 
irksome. I begin to think my mother was right ; this is no 
congenial atmosphere for a man of the world. I cannot invite 
my friends to see me, because I am ashamed of my wife ; but 
then again Ruth is a dear, submissive little creature. I ought 
to love her more, and I will. 

Ruth (enters r. u. e. ; spits on palette and mixes colors'). 
Here's your colors, and I've got them all fixed up nicely for you. 

Frank {takes palette). Thanks. ( She sits on sofa l. ; he 
sees the picture.) That's some more of your fixing, I suppose. 
(Business.) I guess a little retouching will take that out. 
( Works, whistling.) 

Ruth. Frank! Frank! (Louder.) Frank!! (Very 
loud.) 

Frank. Well — what's the matter ? 

Ruth. Do you love me ? 

Frank. Love you, Ruth? (Crosses to sofa.) Who put 
that doubt in your head ? 

Ruth. It kinder popped in. 

Frank. Well, let it " kinder pop" out again. 

Ruth. You ain't tired of correctin' me, be ye, Frank ? 
There be such a load here on my heart. Sometimes I think 
you wish you hadn't married your poor ignorant country girl. 
But you don't, do you, Frank ? 



UNCLE SI. 



35 



Frank. Why no, little one. {Kisses her.) Now, don't 
have any more such foolish thoughts. {Crosses to R. aud re- 
sumes painting.) 

Ruth (whistles ; poicnds the sofa pillow ad. lib.). Frank — 
Frank! (Loud.) Frank!! (Very loud.) 

Frank. Well, what do you want now ? 

Ruth. Come over here and kiss me again. 

Frank (crosses to r.). Certainly, a dozen if you wish. 
(Business.) 

Ruth. Frank, you haven't got to paint any more afore 
supper, have you ? 

Frank. Just a few more touches. (Knock outside.) Come 
in ! (Enter Ned d. in f. l.) Great Scott ! it's Ned ! 

Ned. How are you, Frank ? Hello ! Ruth ; you are 
looking as fresh as a daisy. 

Ruth. Ami, Ned? (Takes hold of his coat.) Let's skin a 
rabbit. (Pulls off his coat.) 

Frank (aside). Skin a rabbit ! (Aloud.) Where did you 
come from, Ned? 

Ned. From behind the desk. (Sits on sofa with Ruth.) 

Frank. In business? 

Ned. Yep. The governor opened his heart and took me 
into partnership. 

Frank. How do you like it ? 

Ned. Can't complain of the business, but I don't like the 
confinement. 

Flannigan (enters d. in f. l.). Mr. Rolleston, your pigs 
is loose. \_Exit quickly ; all jump up. 

Frank. Oh, hang the -pigs ! 

Ruth. Wait a minute, Flannigan, and I'll help you catch 
'em. 'Scuse me, Mr. Clearfield, I'm goin' to chase the pigs. 

[Exit D. in f. l. 

Ned. Frank, what have you got to eat? I'm starving. 

Frank. Hogs. 

Ned. What? 

Frank. I beg your pardon — my mind at that moment was 
on 

Ned. Hogs. Say, Frank, how is married life? 

Frank. Not all that I could wish for. Ruth is as good a 
wife as any man could wish for, but — never mind that topic 
now. Tell me, Ned, how is the affair between my cousin 
Nellie and you progressing ? 

Ned. Out of sight, we've been engaged twice. 



36 UNCLE SI. 

Frank. Twice ? 

Ned. Twice. 

Frank. Well, how do you stand now ? 

Ned. Just at present we are disengaged. {Refers to book?) 

Frank. Disengaged ? 

Ned. You see she wants a chance to think it over, and has 
asked me to wait about five years. 

Frank. And you? 

Ned. I'm going to wait. 

Frank. Good. {Laughing. ) 

Ned. How is the painting panning out, Frank ? 

Frank (Ruth enters d. in f. l.). Not as well as I could 
wish. I long to go to Europe and study from the old masters. 
That seems to be my only love now. Ned, old boy, if you 
ever wish to engage in any great exploit, never marry. 

Ned. Why? Is your married life unhappy? Well, you 
know the old adage — as you make your bed 

Frank. There, now, don't moralize. If Ruth were only 
more refined — if she were only more of a lady. (Ruth sighs 
and exit r. u. e.) Come to lunch, Ned. I won't apologize 
for the table — Mrs. Rolleston superintends that. ( Crosses to 
l. 1 E.) 

Ned. Then I'll wager the department is all O. K. 

[Both exeunt r. i e. 

{Sleigh bells heard in the distance gradually drawing nearer.) 

Josiah {outside). Whoa ! darn ye, whoa ! {Enters d. in 
f. l.) Ruth ! Ruth Melindy Suffrony ! where be ye? Guess 
they must be in to dinner. {Horse makes a noise outside.) 
Hi ! Hi ! there. That nigh hoss gits penickitty every time 
he comes to town. Sight of brick houses gives him the heaves. 
No one around? I guess I'll make myself to hum. Halloa ! 
there's the pianny. {Ad libitum piano bus. At close takes out 
pipe.) Frank don't like smokin' in his parlor — I hain't so 
partickler. I've been a conjecterin' ever sence I was elected 
jestice of the peace by an overwhelmin' majority of two, how 
it was that Elijah Thompson couldn't manage the votes down 
these parts. {Smokes.) 

Ruth {enters r. u. e. crying). Oh, daddy, dear old dad. 
{Goes to him.) 

Josiah. Why, Ruthie — what's busted? Spit it out, and 
tell your old daddy all about it. 

Ruth. Daddy ! Frank don't love me any more. 



UNCLE SI. 37 

Josiah. Yes he do — you be a foolin*. 

Ruth. No, daddy, I wish I was. He said I be coarse and 
ignorant. 

Josiah. Then he be a darn scoundrel. 

Ruth. No, he ain't. 

Josiah. Yes, he be. You ain't no more coarser nor more 
ignoranter than what I are. 

Ruth. Daddy, why didn't you send me to school ? 

Josiah. Well, yer ma needed ye to hum. But I sent ye all 
I could. I sent ye two whole weeks to once, one time. 

Ruth. So you did — dear, old dad ! {Rises.) But I want 
to know more and I will. 

Josiah. Why, leetle gal, what's come over ye? 

Ruth. Nothing much, dad ; you'll know some day. Would 
it cost very much to send me to school ? 

Josiah. No, not a powerful sight. I could drive you over 
every day in the old bob sled — and there's that leetle fortune 
your grandma left ye — interest and all, it must amount to as 
much as fourteen dollars and sixty-eight cents, and you can 
have it — every darn cent of it. 

Ruth. Thank you, dear old dad. 

Josiah. I've got to be a trottin' along now, Ruth. 

Ruth. Why, dad, you've only just come. Can't you stop 
to dinner? We're going to have blank mange and Charlie 
Russie. 

Josiah. I guess my stomach would be s'prised to see them 
coming down. I wouldn't mind taking a hunk of gingerbread 
and bowl of tea, but I've got to be going. 

Ruth. Dad, what did you bring in ? 

Josiah. Hay. I put two barrels apples on top the load. 
Can't sell them ; guess I'll feed them to the hogs. (She helps 
him on with his coat.) I've got my new mittens with me, 
your ma made 'em long so I wouldn't git chilblains in my 
elbows. 

Ruth. How is ma? 

Josiah. She's so she can talk. 

Ruth. And Jack ? 

Josiah. Oh, Jack — he's got to be a regular dude. As soon 
as he heern tell I got elected jestice of the peace, he went right 
down to the company's store and got himself a bran' new suit 
of store clothes. He wears a tall hat when he goes to milk 
the cows. T'other night he was milking old brindle, and 
when she saw that hat, she kicked him clean over into the back 



38 UNCLE SI. 

pasture. She thought he was a strange calf. Now, Ruthie, 
don't you mind these little flareups. They're like a tin can tied 
to a dog's tail; they're bound to a cur. When your ma and 
me was fust married, we used to fight like cats and dogs, but 
now we git long slicker than a cup of custard. But if the 
worst comes to the worst, and Frank mistreats ye, jest put 
your parlor lamp right on that table, so that it will shine 
through your kitchen window, and your old dad will be over 
to see how the little kitten jumps. (Kisses her.') Now good- 
bye, Ruthie. 

Ruth. Good-bye, dad. Don't forget to kiss ma for me. 

Josiah. I will if she'll keep her mouth still long enough. 

[Exit d. in f. l. 

(Noise of sleigh bells dying away in the distance. Ruth is at 
door bidding him good-bye as Frank and Ned enter l. i e.) 

Frank (crosses to r. i e.). I thought my wife knew enough 
to present herself at the table when her husband had company. 
(To Ned.) Come into the next room, Ned. I have some ex- 
cellent cigars. 

Ned. I want to have a Little talk with your wife first; I'll 
join you presently. (Frank exit r. i e.). Say, Ruth, you 
are fixed up real nicely here, aren't you ? (Sits l.) 

Ruth (on sofa). Oh, yes, we be quite comfortable. 

Ned. I suppose you are happy, now that you are settled 
down. 

Ruth. I suppose so. Say, Mr. Clearfield, is your lady 
friend, Miss Parkman, awful handsome? 

Ned. No I don't call her exactly handsome, but she 

is very smart. 

Ruth. How did she get smart ? 

Ned. By going to school. 

Ruth. I wish I could go to school. 

Ned. You can't — you are married. Say, Ruth, do you 
remember Prof. Ticklepitcher ? 

Ruth. The funny bugular alarm man ? 

Ned. Yes, I met him to-day. He's away up in the world 
now. Owns a college of his own. He gave me his card; 
here it is. (Reads.) Prof. Philander Ticklepitcher, A. M. 

Ruth. What does A. M. mean ? 

Ned. Call in the morning. 

Ruth. Can I keep this card ? 



UNCLE SI. 39 

Ned. Certainly. 

Frank {outside). Are you coming, Ned ? 

Ned. By jove ! I forgot. {Rises.) Excuse me, Ruth, 
I have an appointment with a good cigar. \_Exit r. i e. 

Ruth. So Miss Parkman be a wonderful girl. Why can't 
I be a wonderful girl? It ain't my fault that I be ignorant, it 
is my misfortune ; but I would rather be the simple innocent 
country girl that I am than be like some of those brazen-faced 
women who call themselves leaders of society. Society ! So- 
ciety ! Oh, what a mockery. {Looks at card.) Prof. Tickle- 
pitcher, Unionville Seminary. I remember him. He once 
told me if I ever needed a friend to come to him. I need that 
friend now. I will go to him, and under an assumed name 
begin life all over again. If I succeed in learning the A B 
C's of life, I will succeed in winning the X Y Z's of my hus- 
band's love. The little home which has been to me a para- 
dise, must be for a time lost — but when I return, eddicated and 
refined, paradise will be regained. {Exit r. u. e.; reenters 
with lamp ; puts lamp on table ; puts on wrap, kisses Frank's 
hat ; goes to door in flat left.) Good-bye, dear home, good- 
bye. 

Frank {enters r. i e.). What is the matter, Ruth? 

Ruth. The matter, Frank ? 

Frank. Yes, you have been crying. 

Ruth. Have I, Frank ? 

Frank. You are far too sensitive to-night, and don't seem 
to remember anything. It is very annoying to be compelled 
to jog your memory forever. {On sofa.) 

Ruth. You won't have to jog it any more, Frank. 

Frank. That's sensible. 

Ruth. May I kiss you, husband ? 

Frank. Why, of course. (She kisses him.) What a 
strange request ? 

Ruth. Good-bye, dear husband, I'm going out. 

Frank. Going over to your father's ? 

Ruth. No. 

Frank. Then may I ask what takes Mrs. Rolleston from 
her husband's roof at such an hour ? 

Ruth. I thought I might be in the way here. 

Frank. Let me be the better judge of that. 

Ruth. So you be, Frank — so you be. But your house is 
no place for an ignorant country girl like me — let me tell you 
before my heart breaks. I be coarse and ignorant, I ain't got 



40 UNCLE SI. 

any of those refined ways you want in a wife ; I be but a doll 
to be dressed up in your house. 

Frank. Ruth ? 

Ruth. Your Ruth won't trouble you any longer; but 
Frank — some time — some time you will think kindly of your 
poor little country sweetheart. 

Frank. Ruth — my wife ! 

Ruth. It is too late now. (Starts for door.') 

Frank. Where are you going, Ruth ? 

Ruth. I am going out into the world, and when I return, 
I shall be a lady. 

(She exit d. in f. l. ; he looks at door for a moment, takes his 
pipe from mantel, goes to light it, lets pipe fall from his 
hands, takes out handkerchief and buries his face in his 
hands as curtain falls .) 



ACT IV. 

SCENE. — The Parkman hojnestead in Philadelphia. Five 
years are supposed to have elapsed between Acts III. and 
IV. Palace arch in 3, backed by fancy, c. d., backed by 
conservatory. Sofa l. Table ; two chairs r.) 

Flannigan (discovered at rise, dusting furniture). Well, 
now, this do be a fine job. All I have to do is wear a swalley 
tail coat and do the agreeable among the big bugs. There's a 
big reception to-night. I've had five drinks of reception wine 
already, and they're still a comin'. {Bell outside.) There's 
the bell. (Exit c. d., singing.) "The bell goes a ringin' for 
Sarah, Sarah." 

Enter Ned and Nellie, c. T>.,from l. 

Ned. Well, Nellie, this is the third time we've been en- 
gaged. I suppose the third time is final. 

Nellie. It is all your fault that our previous engagements 
were broken off. 

Ned. We'll have to be married soon, or this one will be 
disrupted also. 

Ruth (outside l. c.) Nellie ! Oh, Nellie ! 

Nellie. That is Lucille. (Goes to c. d.) Excuse me, 
please. Here I am, Lucille. 

Ruth (enters c. d. l., as Lucille Askman). Aw — I beg 
pawdon, don't cher know. (Sees Ned.) You need not 
present me — this is Mr. Clearfield. (Bus.) Chawmed — 
awfully chawmed. 

Nellie. Why how did you recognize him ? 

Ruth. Why, my deah, didn't you have his pictures hung 
up all over the wall at school, and did you not keep me awake 
nights extolling his virtues ? 

Nellie. Now don't you believe a word of it. (To Ned.) 

Ned. Oh, I don't know. 

Nellie (crosses to Ned). Will you have the kindness to 
tell me what you are staring at ? 

Ned. At the striking resemblance between Miss Askman 
and Mrs. Frank Rolleston. Ruth ! 

4i 



42 UNCLE SI. 

Ruth [turns quickly). Aha ! (Recovers her affected 
style.) I beg your pawdon. 

Ned. There's a mystery here ; I'd like to solve it. (Goes 
up to c. d.) Ladies, kindly excuse me. [Exit. 

Nellie. Well, Lucille, what is your opinion? 

Ruth. I think he is perfectly chawming, and I can only 
hope that you may be very happy. 

Nellie. Nothing certain about it. We've been engaged 
so many times, but it has never gone so far as this. . (Holds 
up a ring.) 

Ruth. An engagement ring ? He certainly is in earnest 
this time. 

Flannigan (enters c. d.). Mr. Frank Rolleston. 

[Exit c. d. 

Nellie (to Ruth, who titters an exclamation). Why, 
Lucille, what is the matter ? 

Ruth. Nothing. I accidentally pricked my fingers with 
one of these thorns. 

Nellie. Dear cousin Frank — I want him to meet you. 
He is lovely and you will be sure to like him. Excuse me, 
Lucille. [Exit c. d. 

Ruth. Like him ! My husband ! May God grant, that 
all wives love their husbands with the pure and holy devotion, 
that I do mine. Five years absence ! Five years banished 
from Paradise ! Five years of self-inflicted torture ! Oh, to 
throw myself into his arms — cast aside the veneer of fashion, 
and say to him, " Frank, it is I, your own Ruth. Don't you 
know me? " 

Flannigan (enters c. d.). Professor Kick the Pitcher. 

Ruth.' My tutor. Admit him. 

Prof, (enters c. p.). I am already admitted. (To Flan- 
nigan.) Begone. (Flannigan exit c. d.) Ah, good-even- 
ing, Miss Askman. 

Ruth. Good-evening, professor, I hope you are well. 

Prof. Well ! I am more than well. I am exuberant. I 
need not enquire regarding your health. Is the mind as well 
as the body ? 

Ruth. Professor, you know the ordeal I am about to un- 
dergo. I need all my fortitude. 

Prof. I have been your adviser for five years. I have 
faith in the ultimate success of your plan. (He sits r. of table.) 

Ned and Frank enter c. d. 



UNCLE SI. 43 

Ned. How are the nerves, Frank, pretty strong ? 

Frank. Never better. Why do you ask ? 

Ned. You are liable to an attack from the ladies. 

Frank. Never fear, Ned. {Crosses to l.) My days of 
love and romance are now over. 

Ned. How does this fair vision strike you? {Points to 
Ruth.) 

Frank. I see a very pretty face. (Ruth turns her head a 
little and laughs.) Am I dreaming? That is Ruth. {Bus.) 

Ned. Not so fast. {Bus.) I thought so until I had dis- 
covered my mistake. That is Miss Lucille Askman, one of 
our high toned society ladies. 

Frank. But see — that face. (Ruth laughs.) That laugh ! 
It is Ruth. 

Ned. A striking resemblance. We meet with such every 
day. 

Frank. But none like that, Ned, none like that. {Goes 
up c.) 

Nellie {enters c. d.). Welcome home, dear cousin. {She 
kisses him; Flannigan enters c. d. and quickly exit c. d.) 
Why, Frank, how you have aged during the past five years. 
You have been worrying over some secret sorrow. 

Frank. Sorrow ? Yes, a sorrow of which the world has 
never known. 

Nellie. Frank, I want to present you to one of my school 
fellows. Lucille ! Lucille ! Lucille ! 

Prof. Lucille, you have a loose heel. 

Nellie. Lucille ! 

Ruth {turning). I beg your pardon, did you call me, 
Nellie? 

Nellie. Yes. I wish to present to you my Cousin Frank, 
and I want you to be the best of friends. 

Ruth. Chawmed to meet you, sir. {Bows.) I have 
heard Nellie speak of you very frequently at college, and I 
trust that we may be the best of friends. {Turns.) Do you 
know, professor, that was a most amusing story you were 
telling. 

Prof, {laughs and chokes). Amusing in the extreme. 

Frank. It is my wife's face, risen from the dead to haunt 
me with its memory. 

Ned. Come on, Frank, I will present, you to some of the 
other guests. [Exit l. i e. 

Frank. Ladies, kindly excuse my absence. 



44 UNCLE SI. 

Ruth. Only for a time. Your praises have been sung so 
much by your charming cousin, that I am prepared to lionize 
you after we become better acquainted. We may discover that 
we have many friends with whom we have been mutually as- 
sociated. 

Frank. I sincerely trust we may. \_Exit l. i e. 

Ruth {crosses to l.). My husband ! my husband ! How 
altered ! how changed ! [Exit c. d. r. 

Prof. But he is just the same. 

Rachel (enters c. d.). Nellie, your mother wishes to speak 
with you in the library. (Sits on sofa L.) 

Nellie. Very well. [Exit c. d. 

Prof, (drinks wine and eats bananas ; business}. Excuse 
me, but your face is familiar to me. Have you had it long ? 

Rachel. Sir ? 

Prof. I beg your pardon. Doubtless you remember me. 

Rachel. Oh yes, you are the gentleman 

Prof. Who walked home in a barrel ? (Both laugh.) Now, 
if I remember distinctly, your name is Miss Waterman. 

Rachel. Excuse me, I am Mrs. W. Courtney now. 

Prof. What ! Married ! (Nearly collapses.) 

Rachel. Yes. 

Prof. I congratulate you. 

Rachel. I am a widow now. 

Prof. Glad to hear it. [Business.) 

Rachel. Sir ! 

Prof. Glad to hear it for many reasons. Chiefly because 
it makes you more of an adept in the art of breaking other 
hearts. 

Rachel. I do not understand. 

Prof. Ah ! don't you ? I will elucidate. Do you remem- 
ber the camping out scene in the Green Mountains of six years 
ago? 

Rachel. I do. 

Prof. And doubtless you remember the strange infatuation 
I had for a certain party, that was twisted off in the twinkling 
of an eye ? 

Rachel. Oh yes, I remember. You were not then in a 
position to speak of — of 

Prof. Matrimony? Well, hardly. (Aside.) I was in 
pawn for a ninety-seven cent wash bill. (Aloud.) Is my con- 
versation distasteful to you ? 

Rachel. Oh no, not at all. 

UtfO, 



UNCLE SI. 45 

Prof. There is an armchair in the conservatory yonder 
which is admirably adapted to the propagation of youthful and 
tender sentiment. Shall we hie ourselves thither? 

Rachel. As you please. (Crossing to r. c.) Your con- 
versation is so very amusing. 

Prof. And interesting? 

Rachel. Perhaps. [Exit r. u. e. 

Prof. Charming lady. Charming. Wait for me, sweet 
one. You can't lose me, Charlie. [Exit quickly r. u. e. 

Josiah {enters c. d. from l.). I guess this must be the 
place. That starched up feller with a biled shirt on asked me 
for my keerd. I told him I had a whole pack of keerds to 
home. My stars, this is a pooty tall place. (Business.) 
Whiskers on the carpet. It would be a darn funny thing if 
I'd got in the wrong cathedral. I reckon I ought to put a bell 
on so I won't get lost, strayed, or stolen. Ruth is comin' back 
from school to-day, and she's puttin' on more style than a 
Bantam rooster on a Shanghai coop. (Bus. of looking at 
wine.) Drinkables, eh ! Well, seein' it's you, I'll jine you. 
(Drinks.) That tastes like juniper berry tea. (Sees bananas.) 
Well, now, there's two of the all firedest biggest string beans I 
ever see. I'll jest about take them home for seed. (Rises and 
turns to c.) I wonder where be they all. 

Flannigan (enters c. d. with tray and ginger pop). Well, 
how are ye, Mr. Hedges? (Puts tray on table.) 

Josiah. Flannigan, as I'm a sinner ! Well, I'll be horn 
swoggled ! (Shakes hands.) Come over here and set down 
till I talk to ye. (Sit on sofa l.) Last time I saw you, you 
was a chasin' a drove of Berkshire hogs down on Zeke Stubbs' 
place. What are ye doin' of now ? 

Flannigan. I'm workin' here. I'm the butler. 

Josiah. The which ? 

Flannigan. The butler. 

Josiah. Jest so. Have you got a match on ye ? 

Flannigan. I have. (Bus.) How is the wife? Is she 
smart ? 

Josiah. She's too darn smart. (Whispers.) 

Flannigan. No ! When did it happen ? 

Josiah. Day before yistiddy. Weighs eight pounds. 
(Both light pipes.) Say, do you remember the time the old 
mare run away with ye? (Laughs.) 

Flannigan. Begorra, I do; and she threw me over into 
the bog with head down and heels up like a lamp-post. I 



46 UNCLE SI. 

have a fine job here ; all I have to do is to wait on the door 
bell and drink wine. 

Josiah. What's that darn stuff in that bottle? 

Flannigan. Why, that's imported Catawba. 

Josiah. I thought it was slobber gobber. I'm in town on 
a bat. I'm a celebratin'. I've got every man full for three 
miles around. Such doin's as we've had to home don't hap- 
pen every day. 

Flannigan. Wait till I crack this bottle. {Goes to table.} 

Josiah, Don't crack it, pull the cork out. My stars, if 
Ruth should come in and find me a drinkin', she'd think her 
old daddy was a gittin' sporty. Now it strikes me, Flanni- 
gan ( Cork flies out, strikes Josiah. Ad lib. scene ; at 

end Flannigan exits c. d. with bottle.) Well, I'll be horn 
swoggled. That bottle kicks worse than a Vermont mule. 
Lucky I didn't drink it, or I'd be goin' up and down like a 
jumpin' Jack. {Looks l. 3 e.) Halloa ! there's the art gal- 
lery. Ma was jest dyin' to see an art gallery; so when we 
went to Bosting I took her to see one. We went into one of 
them rooms where there was a statoot. As soon as ma seen it, 
she kivered her face with her fan. She thought it was a real 
live gal, and she'd forgot to put her frock on. \_Exit l. 3 e. 

Ruth {enters c. d.). I escaped from the crowd for a mo- 
ment. I want quiet time to reflect. I want to be alone, alone 
with my tortured heart. 

Frank {outside). Very well, Ned, I will join you. 

Ruth. His voice. What shall I do ? I'll sit here {in chair 
l. of table r.), and pretend to be asleep. 

Frank {enters c. d.). Not here ! {Sees her.) There she 
is, and asleep. Ruth, my wife ! I thought I had found 
you. 

Ruth {awakens). Gracious ! Have I been sleeping? 

Frank. Pardon me, I — I didn't mean to disturb you. 

Ruth. I am glad you did disturb me, for I was having a 
horrible dream. 

Frank. A dream ! 

Ruth. Yes, shall I relate it ? 

Frank. If you will. {She motions him to a seat.) 

Ruth. I dreamed I was living in a country home, way 
back among the hills. A home where a parent's commands 
emanated from the lips of love. A stranger came to our home 
one day. He was handsome, chivalrous, and true; just the 
one to win an unsophisticated heart. We were married against 



UNCLE SI. 47 

the wishes of his parents and mine. Our little home was a 
paradise. Then came a change. Gradually it dawned upon 
me that I was ignorant, he refined. He loved music, I en- 
dured it. He loved the bright and the poetic, I was oblivious 
of all, save to the fact that the tendrils of my heart were inter- 
twined in his. At last the film of love was pierced, and I saw 
myself as I was. I was the ball and chain around my hus- 
band's heels. I was the impediment that stood between him 
and social distinction. One night, — I shall never forget it, — 
I went out into the cold and darkness. The cold wind from 
the north, was nothing compared to the chill that was here in 
my heart. After years of absence I returned to my husband, 
but he had forgotten me. I went to him, put my hand upon 
his shoulder (she does so), even as I put my hand on yours, 
looked him in the face, but his lips were silent, his heart was 
marble. I turned from him (she does so) to go back to my 
youthful surroundings when — when — I awakened from my 
dream. (She is r.) 

Frank (rises). Miss Askman, that experience was mine. 
Five years ago the lamp of my happiness flickered and died 
away when the wife of my bosom left my home. She was as 
pure as an angel, and I loved her as a Christian loves his God. 
My love for her has increased as the years have rolled on. Her 
image is ever with me. See (bus.), in this locket I carry her 
dear face. 

Ruth. If she returned to you in her purity and innocence, 
what would you do ? 

Frank. Do !• I would throw myself at her feet, and beg 
forgiveness for every harsh word, every cruel look that wounded 
her pure and sensitive nature. (She drops handkerchief ; he 
picks it up. As he restores it to her he sees her wedding ring. ) 
That ring ! It is mine. 

Ruth. I beg your pardon. It is mine, given me by my 
husband. 

Frank. I care not. There is something in your face that 
draws me toward you. It u the resemblance to the woman 
whose memory I revere. The dream you have just related is 
the history of my life. Mine was the pride, mine has been the 
punishment. P'ive years ago that punishment began, and 
during those years the civilized world has been searched in a 
vain endeavor to bring her back. Lady, I see your face, I 
hear your voice. It is her face, her voice. (Ruth laughs.) 
My God ! it is Ruth, my wife. 



48 UNCLE SI. ^Jf \GOP- 

(She dodges under his arm as he goes R. She gets in a 
chair l.) 

Ruth. Keep away, Frank, you be a foolin' me again. 

Frank. No, Ruth. 

Ruth. And you won't git tired of correctin' me continer- 
ousslessly ? 

Frank. No, Ruth. 

Ruth. And you'll let me say " Picter " ? 

Frank. If you wish. 

Ruth. And you'll hold me close, close to your heart ? 

Frank. Close to my heart and forever. 

Ruth. Then come, Frank, come. (Embrace.') 

Ned and Nellie enter from l. i e. Prof, and Rachel enter 
from r. 1 e. Josiah c. d. Prof, and Ned turn their 
ladies, face to wing. 

Prof, and Ned. Look at the birdies ! Look at the birds ! 

CURTAIN. 

Ned and Nellie. Pr*6f. and Rachel. 

l. Ruth and Frank. r. 

c. 

Josiah (at back). 



ili THF MAGTSTR ATF I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur W. ^J? 
/|> in£l 1VMMJ13 A JKA 111. [ i» INI ,; H0 . Twelve male, four female char- /J\ 



acters. Costumes,' modern ; scenery, all 
interior. The merits of this excellent and amusing piece, one of the most'popu- /l\ 
lar of its author's plays, are well attested by long and repeated runs in the *,K 
principal American theatres. It is of the highest class of dramatic writing, and /l\ 
is uproariously funny, and at the same time unexceptionable in tone. Its entire 
suitability for amateur performance has been shown by hundreds of such pro- 
ductions from manuscript during the past three years. Plays two hours and 
a half. (181)2.) 



_ ! 

amateur performance. It is recommended for Reading Clubs. (1895.) 0m% 



THE NOTORIOUS 
MRS, EBBSMITH, 



A Drama in Four Acts. By Arthur W. /l\ 
PntERO. Eight male and five female charac- ' 

ters ; scenery, all interiors. This is a "prob- 
lem " play continuing the series to which " The 
Profligate" and "The Second Mrs. Tanqueray' 



belong, and while strongly dramatic, and intensely interesting is not suited for 



yt-J'P PT?fYPT Tf^ATF I A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pixk- 
A* 1 *- ^lVV^Jri-lVjn.ll-i. RO Seven male and five female characters. 

' Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 

costumes, modern. This is a piece of serious interest, powerfully dramatic in ij\ 
ic in its event. An admirable olav. but not suited fnr am:i- •"• 



movement, and tragic in its event. An admirable play, but not suited for aim 
teur performance. (1892.) 



THE SECOND 
MRS. TANQUERAY. 



W. Pjnero. Seven male and four female 
diaracters. 



comet 



THF TTTVTF^ I A Comedyin Four Acts. By Arthur W. Pinero. Six 



presents a plot of 

strong dramatic interest, and its incidental satire of •■ Woman's Rights" em- 
plovs some admirably humorous characters, and inspires many verv clever lines. 
Its leading characters are unusually even in strength and prominence, which 
makes it a very satisfactory piece for amateurs. (1894.) 






/is 



THF SCHOOT MTSTRFS^ I A Farce in Three Acts. By Arthur 

1 nil aVJll UmVAAD 1 KJia.X | w Pikero< Nine male, seven fe- A 

' male characters. Costumes, mod- [l\ 

em : scenery, three interiors, easily arranged. This ingenious and laughable ilw 

farce was played by Miss Rosina Yokes during her last season in America with 0§\ 

great success. Its plot is amusing, its action rapid and full of incident, its dia- jli 

logue brilliant, and its scheme of character especially rich in quaint and humor- fi\ 

ous types. The Hon. VereQueckett and Peggy are especially strong. The piece ilv 

is in all respects suitable for amateurs. (1894.) fm\ 

A Play in Four Acts. By Arthur W. 
Pinero. Eight male and five female char- 
acters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, three 
interiors. This well-known and powerful 
play is not well suited for amateur per- 
formance. It is offered to Mr. Pinero's admirers among the reading public in 
answer to the demand which its wide discussion as an acted play has created. 
(1894.) Also in Cloth, $1.00. 



W 



W 

SWEET LAVENDER.! &^?JJ»£™J£°:*7„J!.y??"Z W 



Scene, a single interior, the %■# 
ishionable. This well known jV. 



same for all three acts: costumes, modern and fashionabl_. 

and popular piece is admirably suited to amateur players, by whom it has been \l/ 

often given during the last few years. Its story is strongly sympathetic, and its TI. 

3dy interest abundant and strong. (1893.) \l/ 



W 

male and seven female characters. Scene, a single ele- \kj 

?V. gant interior; costumes, modern and fashionable. An Mr 

114 entertaining piece, of strong dramatic interest and admirable satirical humor. ik'j 

W (1892.) Mf 

^K THF 'WFAK'F'R <\T?Y I A Comedy in Three Acts. Bv Arthur V/ 

\(/ irUL WCAISJ1K SA1A. | W . PrXFR0 . Eight male and eight female \(/ 

-•*•- | . characters. Costumes, modern ; scenery, ?K 

two interiors, not difficult. This very amusing comedy was a popular feature of \Wi 

the repertoire of Mr. and Mrs. Kendal in this countrv. It presents a plot of :!* 

I 



to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 

t 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



NEW OPERETTAS F 




018 482 443 7 4 

EDITH'S DREAM. 

®n ©pcrctta far ffitytoim 

Words by MARGARET FEZANDIE and EDGAR MORETTE. 
Music by EUGENE FEZANDIE, Jr. 



Eleven characters, girls and boys, or all girls, as preferred ; ten or more addi- 
tional For chorus. Scenery unnecessary ; costumes, pretty and fanciful, but 
easily arranged at home. This admirable little piece is printed complete with 
music. It is very tuneful and gracefully imagined, and is strongly recommended 
for private theatricals or for schools. It is particularly well suited for the latter 
use. as it deals whimsically with the question of youthful study, inculcating, 
however, an excellent moral. 



Price 



35 cents. 



ODD OPERASHEVEN TIDE. 

A Collection of Short and Simple Musical 
Entertainments for Children. 

By MRS. G. N. BORDMAN. 



to 
to 

to 
to 

t 

w 

1*4 '* This collection provides a simple operetta, a fairy opera, a picturesque motion 
Mr song, a quaint musical pantomime, a prettv musical sketch, and two original 

f 

f 
I 
I 

I 



humorous recitations for children, complete, ith all the music, and full instruc 
tion's for performance. The music is tuneful and simple, and is specially written 
with the tastes and limitations of children in view. The solos are easily learned 
and sung, and all the choruses are written for voices in unison. The collection 
is strongly recommended for its simplicity and perfect practicability. Neither 
stage nor scenery is demanded, nor any other requirements that cannot be met 
without trouble'by the equipment of the ordinary hall or church vestry, and the 
zeal of the most economical committee of arrangements. 



Price 



CONTENTS. 



50 cents. 



A Glimpse of the Brownies. A 

Musical Sketch for Children. Any 
number of boys. 

Market Day. An Operetta for Young 
People. Seven speaking parts and 
chorus. 

Queen Flora's Day Dream. An 

Operetta for Children. Six speak- 
ing parts and chorus. 



Musical 
Thirty 



The Boating Partv. A 

Sketch for Little Childrei 
boys and girls. 

Six I,ittle Grandmas. A Musical 
Pantomime for very Little Children. 
Six very little girls. 

Jimmy Crow. A Recitation for a 
Little Girl. 

A House in the Moon. A Recita- 
tion for a Child. 



IS 
to 

t 

to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 
to 

I 

to 

ft 
to 

to 

f 

w 

t 

I 



